


Sweat/Lace

by powerofsand, Servetolive



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, Drug Use, Every Kind of Sex, Honeybee Inn, M/M, Multi, Prostitution, Red Light District Culture, Sex Toys, Sex Work, Sex Worker Cloud Strife, Sex Worker Hierarchy, Stripping, go figure, it's a story about hoein'
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:34:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23971648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/powerofsand/pseuds/powerofsand, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Servetolive/pseuds/Servetolive
Summary: Reno trailed Cloud's jawline with the edge of the roll of cash, and the younger man's eyes followed it.“You just make your bread, Shorty.”A generous trick takes it upon himself to show Cloud the ropes in his new trade, offering him words to live by: "Mind on your money."
Relationships: Cloud Strife/Others, Reno/Cloud Strife
Comments: 26
Kudos: 97
Collections: Honey/Coin





	1. Get Yours

**Author's Note:**

> This is a kind of arbitrary, fun stomping ground for me and powerofsand to play with Cloud as sex worker. Much of it is inspired by actual modern day urban sex work, Arthur Golden's _Memoirs of a Geisha,_ and the "Flower and Willow World" in general. Some stuff we also just pulled out of our ass.
> 
> Also we just really wanted to write about Cloud gettin' it from a wide variety of people, and being a bad bitch about it.

“You used to be military,” Cloud’s client said as his hand clamped down around the curve of his bicep, pressing into the muscle and its tone. “Didn’t you?”

The condescension in his voice was hard to miss, but it was certainly not the first encounter he’d had with this type of customer. Shinra had a way of twisting even its most mediocre employees into believing that there was a sense of entitlement toward anyone who didn’t wear its shiny red badge, particularly those who had once been so privileged. 

Cloud tensed up at the contact, closed his eyes, and then exhaled. The rage dispersed throughout multiple points of his body, allowing him to clear his mind long enough to pour the drink his john had asked for. This was more invasive than being spread apart and fucked, but he’d been there long enough at least to respond to it without wrenching his arm away. Or snapping back..

“Got a thing for soldiers or something?” Cloud cracked two ice cubes into the glass, and reached for the lowest quality whiskey. The middle manager had paid for more, but he was already red-faced and blotchy from his earlier time at the bar and was unlikely to tell the difference. 

The manager snickered as Cloud turned from the bar and offered the drink to him. He took the glass, but narrowed his eyes at Cloud, glaring at him over the rim. 

“No need to be angry, _sweetheart.”_ He lifted the glass in salute, knocked the drink back, and handed the empty back over to Cloud, who swiveled to place the glass onto the corner of the bar.

Cloud returned the look, smirked at him, and then turned around to sit at the edge of the bed, crossing his stockinged legs, and leaning back on his hands. He tilted his head, batted his fake eyelashes, and waited for the manager make his next move.

“Not everyone can hack it at the company,” the suit said as he clicked the buckle of his belt.

“Yeah,” Cloud agreed with a shrug, kicking off his heels. “It’s so difficult, some folks might need to go to the local whorehouse to feel better about themselves.”

The suit paused in his advance, gave Cloud a good once over, and then laughed.

“That’s pretty rich,” he said. The shine of his company lapel flashed as he loosened his tie, and placed his hands on either side of Cloud’s thighs, fingers brushing against the lace of his costume. “I can definitely see where you’d make a better whore than a soldier.”

Cloud followed his client’s lead, pressing himself back against the soft duvet, running his acrylic nails through the man’s black hair as his fingers spread beneath the webbing that held his getup together. 

“Funny,” Cloud said. “I didn’t realize there was much of a difference.”

The manager ran his hands along the outside of Cloud’s thighs, the nylon rippling underneath them before he wrapped his fingers around the rims and tore them off. Cloud gasped, and tightened his core as his client dipped his tongue into his navel.

There was something intensely satisfying about the sound of his expensive clothes ripping. It could have just been the sensation, but Cloud chose to believe that it was the thought of this asshole’s bill charged an extra twenty percent that got him wet enough for a convincing performance.

\--

“Fucking asshole.”

Cloud’s walk back to the dressing room was always an exercise in endurance. It was policy to adorn one’s “happy mask” while on the floor at all times, even after having left a particulary rough session. Especially so. 

Among the working girls and boys at the Inn, Cloud had the hardest time keeping his face clear from emotion. He was constantly scolded by Andrea for his bitch face and his angry stride from customer to dressing room.

Andrea wasn’t around to scold him that time. He nearly marched right through a senior girl in his path to the dressing room, shot her a vicious look--which would never do him any favors--and shoved the door open.

A few other girls buzzed about, sopping up oil or sweat from their faces and reapplying setting powder or mascara that had run during heated sessions. Cloud flopped into the chair at his section of the vanity and examined the purple mark on his collarbone.

He’d told him, “no biting.” Twice, actually. The prick had done it on fucking purpose. Cloud grabbed a kabuki brush, pressed a generous glob of concealer into it, and dabbed at the spot furiously.

Mukki would be pissed. He could be taken off the floor. The concealer masked the hickey partially, but if he were to sweat, or if another customer had the same idea and ended up with a mouthful of makeup, the result would be the same.

Disgusted, Cloud tossed the brush into the cup it came from loudly and slid his temples into his hands. When he could bear to, he chanced a look up into the mirror, at his thick rimmed eyes and lips pouted with plumper; the rouge on his cheeks and the gold highlight that sparkled under the Honeybee’s illustrious, gaudy lights.

There were always other girls who cried in there, asking themselves ‘why.’ They were supposed to be a teacher. A stage actress. A ballerina. A singer. An administrative assistant. A biologist.

Cloud refused to do the same. He wasn’t a SOLDIER, he wasn’t a hero, and if he thought too hard about what he wasn’t, he might dive face first into the reality of what he _is._

With that pep talk fresh in memory, Cloud cleared his throat, opened his pot of translucent powder, and layered on a fresh face for his final hour of work.

\--

When the night ended, Cloud had run out of ways to avoid Andrea. After their customers had left for the night, and they completed their line-up meeting and discussed who had made the most Pollen Points for the evening, they all dispersed. By accident, he and Andrea locked eyes, and his boss waved him over with a stern look.

Cloud stopped mid-duck and went to him. Immediately, Andrea placed one hand on Cloud’s neck, using the other to tilt his chin from the side and examine the mouth-shaped bruise left by his customer. His touch was gentle, but Cloud could feel the tension between them. 

“I’m sorry, Andrea.” Cloud felt pitiful. He hated apologizing to anyone, especially when it wasn’t his fault. “I told him--”

“Who was it?” Andrea’s brow hardened, and he ran a thumb along the hickey. 

Cloud swallowed. “My last client.” 

Cloud’s last client had left nearly two hours ago. Most of the other girls worked until close, but he didn’t take another, largely because he didn’t _want_ to. He stayed practically hidden on the floor, pretending to be occupied with his phone, creating an aura of unapproachability around him.

Andrea let him go. “Okay,” he said. “He’ll get a two week ban.”

That he looked away from Cloud told him that he was finished, and Cloud headed back to the dressing room to disrobe.

\--  
Andrea was a kind man who appeared to put thought into everything he let pass from his mouth. But he certainly wasn’t a quiet one, and this told Cloud that the lack of words between them was a sign of disappointment.

What to do about it, he didn’t know. He had no idea that sex work would be so deeply rooted in the one thing he didn’t know how to do: talking. Supposedly it was a privilege to work at a place like the Honeybee, but he hated his customers, he hated his coworkers, and he hated that he had to do so much more work than learn to put on makeup and prance around in strange clothing.

He knew his attitude was a problem. Nightly, the same shit happened: he may be approached by one or two customers, curious about the Honeyboy who eschewed the vests and slacks for the same skimpy outfits his female counterparts wore, but set himself apart from them by shoegazing, or placing himself up against the same shiny pillar like one of Andrea’s many expensive decorations.

They were boring and forgettable, nothing that brought him closer to the energy and happiness that the Honeybee promised its patrons.

 _Just like me,_ he dared tell himself angrily as he finished counting his meager tips in his small apartment, flipped off the lights, and went to bed.

\--

Every weekend, sometimes even twice in a row, a rowdy group of Shinra suits--Turks, he recalled--occupied one of the Sugar Sap lounges on the east-facing side of the establishment, where customers went to socialize with Bees while an alternating gender cast of some performed graceful acrobatic movements on two poles. Supposedly, dancers that wanted to one day be included in the show ended up on this stage long before Andrea took any notice of them, but that was worlds away from Cloud.

The noise these suits made when they came in; the money they’d spend, girls and Honeyboys that would occupy them and the sheer amount of resources the Honeybee would allocate to entertaining them piqued Cloud’s interest, but not enough for him to make himself available to them.

The shapes and colors of the faces would change, save for the head of the group: a slim red-head with a permanent smirk for a mouth, face tats, and an apparently limited vocabulary.

“‘Ey! Is it slow in here tonight, or what?!”

Every time Cloud heard his voice, he would look up to see multiple Bees jump from wherever they were lounging, and crowd him. “Reno! Reno’s here!”

Reno, like any man, appeared to relish the attention, the corner of his mouth screwed up into an even more extreme angle than usual. “Alright, alright, bitches,” he’d say playfully. “Let a dude breathe, goddamn!”

They’d walk past Cloud in a swarm, immediately off to the VIP lounge, while Mukki or whoever else was house-mothering at the time rushed to make sure it was prepared, paces only ahead of them.

From his vantage point near the bar, Cloud watched the Bees climb all over Reno and his friends, grind in their laps, make out with each other, and snort something off the table in dim-lit purple lights. Occasionally there was a flash of innumerable quantities of bills flying up in the air; the Bees would scramble for them while Reno and his friends watched, laughing, arousal darkening their eyes.

At the end of the night, he often left for one of the rooms, one or two bees in each arm. Once, it was all six that he had with him; two of his Turks following close behind. 

When he wasn’t in the VIP, Reno would make a general ass of himself, the loudest on the floor, whooping and hollering at the girls on stage. He remembered a time the dude brought an actual money gun.

Before he could bring himself to wonder what it would take to be involved in Reno’s circle of cash and drugs, Cloud would call him an idiot in his head and return to his phone.

And then one day, around the end of Cloud’s first month working, Reno noticed him.

The swarm moved past him, as it always did. Cloud glanced up, and this time, Reno’s head turned in his direction, and he locked eyes with him until he had passed completely.

It was like it had happened in slow motion. Cloud saw him in detail for the first time: sharp jaw line, full lips, green-ish blue eyes that communicated much more intricately than his brash behavior, something between the lines of _come-hither, follow me,_ and _back the fuck up._

He was cute. Probably good in bed. Money certainly wasn’t the only reason the girls followed him everywhere.

Cloud was glad the room was dark. He didn’t think blushing was attractive in a whorehouse. He shifted his weight in his heels and leaned back against the bar, losing himself in his phone until a client came to him to have a completely unnecessary conversation before one of them would awkwardly suggest getting a room.

\--

The very next night, Reno returned. He exchanged a glance with Cloud again, but didn’t linger, turning instead to pile into another VIP room with his crew.

Cloud turned and took a seat at the bar, bought himself a drink, and nursed it while watching videos.

Some time later, a pair of gloved hands on his shoulders startled him.

“I know you from somewhere?”

The music was loud, but Reno’s mouth was close enough to Cloud’s right ear that he didn’t have to yell. He smelled heavily of cigarettes, but that was nothing he wasn’t used to. Cloud glanced over to the VIP and saw that it was still occupied--sans their leader. 

_Not this shit again,_ he thought.

He relaxed his shoulders, and turned the opposite way to speak over his shoulder, so that he wouldn’t accidentally kiss him.

“I don’t know,” Cloud said, unable to stop himself. “Do you?”

“Huh.” Rather than scamper away, offended, or bark back with a swear, Reno slid into the barstool next to him. Hanno, the bartender, immediately placed a square napkin down in front of him and started on a drink for him, without stopping to ask first what he wanted. “Was just wondering if you worked with Shinra, but then I thought, ‘nah, just the same bitch standing in the exact same place he was last time, alone.’”

Cloud took a sip of his drink to keep himself from tossing it into Reno’s face. Hanno set Reno’s drink onto the napkin and went on to the next customer. “You’ve got a way with words,” Cloud said, with as little attitude as he could muster.

“So do you.” Reno twirled his drink--soda and whiskey--and knocked it back. Hanno swept it up as soon as it touched the bar, and Reno swiveled to face Cloud. “I’m Reno.”

“I know.” Cloud finished his drink, and then finally turned to face this unlikely client. “You’re not very easy to miss.”

Cloud blinked slowly, and leaned onto his elbow--the best way he knew to flirt. Reno smirked at him.

“Ooh. You’re a sharp one,” he said. Cloud expected him to push himself off the stool and return to the _real_ party at any second, but instead, Reno said:

“So, you gonna tell me your name, or do you prefer ‘Asshole?’ ‘Cunt?’ ‘Gutterhoe?’ ‘Bitch?’ ‘Skank--’”

“ _Nine,_ ” Cloud finally insisted. “Nine is fine.”

“ _Nine._ ” Reno sucked his teeth mockingly, and completely missed Cloud’s annoyed glare. “Well ain’t that… special. Hope that ain’t a reference to your ranking or something,” Reno said flippantly before turning off his chair. He flicked his head at Cloud, toward the rooms.

Cloud slid off his stool, concealing his shock.

“Well?” Reno grabbed Cloud’s wrist, and placed his hand in his, motioning for him to lead. “C’mon, then.”

\--

The Dew Drop Room was one of the smaller ones that didn’t sacrifice size for opulence. Cloud walked in and immediately went to the bar, a habit that he’d developed to avoid as much open, awkward space as possible. “Can I get you something?” 

Reno waved him off and took his place there. “I got it.”

Cloud moved back, flustered and left with nothing to busy himself with as Reno reached for the brown liquor, popped it open, and sniffed it. There was often an obvious reason as to why a customer picked him, and cutting through pretense even to give a client the most basic of experiences was easy.

He had no idea what this man wanted from him.

“So,” Reno began, his back still turned to Cloud. Cloud realized that he was only feet away from the iconic red ponytail that money and Pollen Points trailed behind, and was very likely going to blow his chance with it. “Normally, I’d ask if you’re just having a bad night, but your stank attitude tells me a bit different.” 

Cloud scoffed and looked down to his side. He recited the standard phrasing he was taught when things went badly, but without a single drop of apology in his voice. “If I’m not to your liking, feel free to choose a different… boy.”

Reno snickered and shook his head, setting aside one full glass and working on another.

“Or girl." He shifted his weight onto another foot. “Whatever.”

Reno pivoted on his heel, and handed Cloud the drink. Cloud glared at it dumbly, having never been offered a drink from a john before. 

He looked up at Reno, and noticed that the sharp smugness had left his eyes. Still wore it on his mouth, though. “Drink that,” the man said. 

Continuing to be standoffish would be a shot in the foot. Cloud took the drink, knocked it back, and handed it back to him. 

“Good,” Reno said, setting the empty on the bar.

Automatically, Cloud reached up behind his neck and began to undo the strings that held his skimpy get-up together.

“Did I ask you to take off your clothes?” 

Cloud froze. He hadn’t even thought twice about it. “No,” he admitted. “You didn’t.”

When Reno turned around with his drink, the smugness returned. “Then why the fuck you doing it for?”

Frustrated, Cloud sighed loudly and dropped his hands into his lap. He spent the next several, long seconds looking everywhere but his client.

By the time Reno moved again, the alcohol had made its way smoothly through his system, and he felt his muscles relax as Reno sank into the seat next to him. He ordered the enviro-control to dim the lights and switch them to red before he spoke.

“Wow,” he said, with a slightly menacing tone. “I might’ve been wrong, y’know. You _are_ having a bad day. ‘Cause if you’re like this every time with every single customer, Dre would have been put your ass out on the street.”

Embarrassed and, well, _read_ , Cloud nervously scratched the back of his head, and kept his chin tilted away from Reno.

“Then why’d you pick me?” 

“Well, there’s gotta be a reason Dre picked _you_ , right?” He shrugged, made a pout with his lips, and took a sip of his drink. “Thought I might find out what that is.”

Cloud nodded, absently. He didn’t know what to say. _Let me know when you do_ , he thought.

“You _were_ with Shinra.” Reno finished his drink and set it aside.

Cloud whipped his head to the side to look at Reno, but before he could open his mouth, the Turk cut him off: “Don’t bullshit me. I know you. I seen you around the training grounds.”

Reno stood up to make himself another drink, leaving Cloud there with an angry gape in his mouth. 

“You were in last quarter’s round of SOLDIER trials.” Cloud’s ears burned furiously, as Reno turned around, leaned back against the bar, and observed Cloud’s reaction.

“Guess you didn’t make it, huh?”

Cloud’s eyes flickered with anger, and he leaned back onto the couch, sliding his legs up under him. “Guess not,” he said. “So, are the Turks shifting their recruiting targets, or...”

The remark rolled right off Reno’s back. “Nah. I’m here to have a good fucking time. Everyone is. ‘Cept you.”

“I’m here to _work,_ ” Cloud said. “So if there’s something special you want me to do for you, you can just tell me so I can move on to my next client.”

Reno poked his tongue in his mouth, as if he were trying to keep himself from saying what was really on his mind.

“ _Somethin’ special,_ ” he parroted, then made a show of placing his finger on his chin to think. “Hm.” His eyes lit up, and he snapped his fingers. “I know! Maybe I want my dick sucked.”

 _Finally,_ Cloud said. He unfolded his legs and stood up. “I can do that.”

Reno allowed him to help him out of his jacket, and unfasten the remaining buttons of his undershirt. He eyed Cloud up and down as he did so, cataloguing the taut skin over muscle and the smooth curve of his ass beneath the sheer nylons.

By the time Cloud finished hanging them up on the coat rack, Reno sat on the couch with a lit cigarette, knees spread apart, waiting for him.

Cloud had to admit to himself, as he dropped to his knees and scooted closer to Reno’s crotch, that his clinical manner of doing things clashed with the free-wheeling, sensual vibes that Reno gave off, even when he was just sitting.

He unfastened Reno’s pants, and then looked up at him for permission.

“Well?” Reno smirked.

Cloud reached into Reno’s pants and pulled his cock out. Clean, smelled like soap, fortunately. Soap and sweat. Slightly more than average sized, flaccid. Pretty. 

He’d done this at least a dozen times before. Why was it so intimidating with this guy?

He placed his mouth over the head, and immediately drew himself to the base.

Reno’s breath caught momentarily… and that was the last sound he made for an uncomfortably long time.

Cloud wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he realized that the dick in his mouth was still only _half_ hard, and something was off. He looked up at Reno, who was examining the shadows on the ceiling, or… something.

Cloud popped the organ out of his mouth. “What?” He said.

Reno sighed, and went on looking at the ceiling. “Oh, nothing. Was just looking for it.”

Cloud frowned, and let go of Reno, leaning back on his hands. “Looking for what?”

“Whatever it is ‘bout you that Dre thinks is so special.”

Cloud made a disgusted noise. Thoroughly insulted and humiliated now, he had no idea why this john was wasting his time with him. Reno ordered the lights on, and they exchanged a look during which Reno’s eyes softened.

He leaned over to give Cloud a friendly tap on his shoulder. “Check this out.”

It was only a small gesture, but it was enough to open Cloud up and invite him to follow Reno’s movement up the couch as the other man crawled across the bed and used the service phone to call the desk.

He ordered two dildos. Medium sized. Silicone. 

A Bee brought them on a tray, and Reno brought it over to Cloud, who had taken up his spot on the couch again.

His first thought was that Reno would give him another shot at pleasuring him. That went out the window as Reno handed him one, kept one for himself, and got down on his knees in front of the couch, placing the fake cock in front of him in the same position Cloud had been with him earlier.

“Get down here,” Reno said, pulling on Cloud’s wrist.

Confused, Cloud obeyed. This was proving to be, so far, the most interesting session he had ever had with a trick. He mirrored Reno's stance, taking the dildo and securing it on the couch. 

Reno then proceeded to teach Cloud how to _properly_ suck a dick.

He taught Cloud how to ghost his fingers along the shaft, how to tease the head with the tip of his (very long) tongue, how to handle it with two fingers only at the base rather than engulfing the entire thing with hands, deadening the sensations.

He taught him about the sensitivity of the frenulum, how to give it _just_ enough attention, how to slide his tongue over his teeth to keep them from grazing the skin, how to safely slide it into his throat. How to suck gently; the intention wasn’t to literally _blow_ the poor bastard to oblivion, but to make him want to fuck. 

“S’no fun sucking a dick for a whole hour,” Reno said. Cloud happened to agree.

Cloud was torn between watching Reno suck a dick with as much expertise as he’d seen women do in porn, and following his directions.

Reno slapped him on a freckled shoulder with his knuckles. “You feel me?”

“Huh?”

Reno rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Nine, focus. What’d I just say?”

“... About the eyes?”

Reno groaned and slapped the cushion of the couch. “ _C’mon,_ man.”

He repeated himself: Cloud had powerful eyes. The shape of them gave him a sultry fox-like gaze that men would like. Flick them upwards at the right time, and it would send them over.

“Okay. Your turn.”

Cloud looked at the fake cock in his hands, and then suddenly became embarrassed.

“Are we really doing this?”

“Anything better to do?”

Couldn’t argue with that. Cloud slid his mouth over the head of the cock and did his best to re-enact everything Reno had taught him in thirty seconds.

“Okay, but like… slower. Always slower. Give it a few swats.”

Cloud let his bottom lip fall open, and swatted at it with the cock a few times.

“Not like… with your teeth out,” Reno corrected. “Just a slight part.”

Cloud tried again. “Nice,” his tutor said.

The last thing was about deep throating: taking it slow, slow, angling the head just so, and swallowing at the right time. 

It went well until Cloud’s gag reflex engaged, and he dry heaved as soon as he ejected the cock from his mouth. A combination of saliva and tears made his makeup run, and his eyes burned when his mascara leaked into them.

“Ah, shit…” He placed a knuckle into them, and waited for the pain to pass.

Reno burst into laughter and patted his back. “You gotta work at that one,” he said, before getting up to pour himself a glass of water. 

“Not too bad, Shorty.”

It took Cloud a moment to realize that Reno wasn’t calling him short--he was only a few inches shorter than the man himself--it was a nickname he’d heard thrown around in seedier parts of the Undercity, like Sector Four.

Cloud turned around on the couch, and leaned back against it, examining Reno with a curious frown. A lot of men came in here and wanted to do all kinds of weird shit with their hard earned money, but a cock sucking tutorial? A first. And he bet that if he lined up each one of his co-workers and asked them if they’d ever experienced the same, it’d be a first for them too.

“Got anything else lined up besides this?” Reno turned to him and asked, his red hair swishing behind him. His bare torso opened up as he drained the large glass of water he poured, and Cloud caught sight of a number of keloid scars formed in the unmistakable shape of blade swipes, as well as his perfectly sculpted muscle tone. 

Cloud shook his head, guessing what direction the conversation was heading in. He sighed. “Nope.”

Reno shrugged. “Might as well be good at what you do then, right?”

“This isn’t…” Cloud closed his eyes, and grunted. “This isn’t what I do.”

“That's right, you used to be a swordsman. Wanna do something else? You could try working in a kitchen. Or bein’ a dope boy. Or bein' a Merc. Killing the same old monsters every day or running errands for people that actually have lives and shit."

Cloud shook his head. “No, I don’t want that.”

“So you want this.”

Reno took his place again on the couch, and dimmed the lights again. His energy was fading; his smirk was lazy and his eyes dragged just a bit when he blinked.

“You’re real pretty,” Reno said, looking at his empty glass. “I'm guessing that's what's so special about you. But that ain’t gonna get you far. I dunno. Seems like you're different from the others, but then you ain't got shit to offer. You make it way too obvious that you don’t wanna be here.” 

Before Cloud could respond, he gestured between his legs. 

That time around, Cloud felt less uncomfortable, and more eager to have "something to offer." It had never occurred to him how little he was actually doing to improve his prospects at work. If he couldn't talk, fine, but what was Andrea supposed to do with a Honeyboy that couldn't suck dick either? 

He worked on Reno’s pants while he considered why he gave any kind of a shit about how well a complete stranger did as a whore.

“And if you don’t," he continued, "well then, fine. Fuck off.” 

This man had a way of making Cloud feel small when he was obviously only trying to help. He dipped his head and focused on freeing Reno’s cock from his pants again, but Reno caught his chin in his left hand, and forced him to look up into his eyes. There was simply no hiding from him. 

Even with the red lighting, the green-rimmed glint of mako illuminated the blue in Reno’s eyes.

“But don’t take it out on your tricks just because you’re a whore instead of with Shinra.” 

Cloud followed Reno’s eyes, like they were opposite sides of a magnet, and he realized that even though he had no clue what Reno’s intentions were, he was somebody he should probably listen to.

“They’re whores too, you know. We’re _all_ whores. Shinra whores.”

Cloud hummed quietly through the rustling of Reno’s slacks. “Who wouldn’t wanna be a Shinra whore over this?”

Reno shook his head. His voice darkened as Cloud pulled his cock free from his pants for a second time, and the atmosphere changed. 

“Fuck what you're talking about," he said. 

For the first time, Cloud actually wanted to suck a client’s dick. His client, too, seemed to pick up on that, as he touched the base lightly as instructed, and let the tip bounce a couple of times off his lips. 

Reno spread his legs further apart and inhaled deeply, then reached into his back pocket with his left hand, pulled out a wad of neatly folded gil, and held it up with two fingers, eyes trained on Cloud. 

There was probably about five hundred gil in that roll, more money than Cloud had ever made in one night, and if Reno put it in his hands, the whole thing was his. His mouth began to water, and he suddenly remembered why he agreed to work for Andrea in the first place: the thrill of money was second only to the thrill of combat. 

A _close_ second. Reno trailed Cloud's jawline with the edge of the roll of cash, and the younger man's eyes followed it. 

“You just make your bread, Shorty.”

He was hard, and Cloud traced the line of his cock with his bottom lip upward, as if chasing the money. His body responded to it too, and whether it was because of the presence of hard currency or Reno’s demeanor, he couldn’t say; it didn't matter. What mattered was that his cunt was wet and he _liked_ that, for once. He spread his legs and arched his back as he pressed Reno's tip against the moist meat of his lips. 

“Mm-hm.” Reno nodded, took the clip off of his wad of cash, leaned back, and flipped a bill onto Cloud every time he correctly performed a technique on his cock that he had taught him earlier. 

\--

The hour ended before Cloud could finish. Reno had sunk back into the couch, enjoying his blow job, his face in the crook of his arm. The unintrusive, sweet sounding five minute bell sounded over the speakers, and Reno sighed.

“Time’s up, Nine,” he said, softly rifling a hand through Cloud's spikes. Normally that, or some variation of it, would be Cloud’s line, but he had become used to Reno taking the lead in the hour he had known him.

An hour, Cloud thought as we wiped his mouth, stood, and offered a hand to Reno. Somehow, it felt like it’d been days since they'd first spoken. 

Reno allowed Cloud to help him up, do up his slacks, and went to retrieve his clothes.

“So, Nine…” Reno asked as he shrugged into his white shirt. “What made you come up with that?”

Cloud was on his way back from the corner of the room with Reno’s jacket, before he froze. Nobody asked him what his name was, or why he chose it, and it didn’t really matter to anyone else, but Reno was intelligent and would likely give him a hard time.

“It’s… stupid.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Cloud held the jacket open for Reno’s left arm, then the other. “Do I even wanna know?”

Cloud shook his head, and then gave the tiniest of smiles. 

Reno returned the favor, and then appeared to become suddenly overtaken by Cloud's beauty. He whistled to himself, shaking his head. 

“Goddamn, you’re fucking pretty. It’d be a real shame if you don’t make something of yourself while you’re here, that’s for damn sure.” 

He said it more to himself than to Cloud. 

As Reno dusted his jacket and straightened the hem out, Cloud felt himself compelled to ask the question that all Bees were meant to ask their customers, but with genuine intent behind it for the first time. 

“So, will I see you again?” 

He didn’t quite like the needy way it sounded in his head, but the truth was that he had enjoyed his time with Reno. The laughter and excitement that his colleagues seemed to all have without him in this line of work was less of a mystery after spending one hour with him. 

Reno smirked at Cloud in the mirror, clearly satisfied with the question, and therefore the session as a whole. 

“That depends.” With two minutes on the clock, Reno poured himself one more shot of the brown stuff. 

“If I keep coming back here and you’re still a Fourth Tier basic bitch in two weeks, then…” 

He killed the shot, and replaced the glass. 

“Nah.” 

He gave himself one last once over in the mirror, pulled his ponytail free, raked his fingers through it, and then tied it back again. 

Reno put his hand on the doorknob, and then turned back to give Cloud an attractive wink and a smooch. 

“Mind on your money, kid.”

And he was gone, leaving Cloud to turn back toward the couch, littered with gil, and two dildoes on the floor.


	2. Get Theirs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"You’re here to_ be _nasty, Shorty. Ply your trade.”_
> 
> Things get worse for Cloud, until he receives another visit from his benefactor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter playlist is [here.](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL8WmyEkP_OD6DTbtW-FPib_k778wH_MND)
> 
> Don't do drugs, please. Seriously.
> 
> Edit: This is now a collection! Main narrative will be here, but porn with clients (with the exception of Reno/Cloud moments) will now be placed in the Honey/Coin collection as they come along! ❤️

It starts as a trickle. Clients leaving somewhat dissatisfied or put off by his demeanor. It starts with more instances of Cloud becoming a wallflower, observing, stone faced and unapproachable.

And it becomes a flood when a client out right complains and Cloud is left scrambling to correct his mistakes. He makes an honest effort with the meager knowledge gained from his night with the red headed Turk. It helps. But it still isn't enough come line up at the end of their shift. Their pollen points are calculated and once again Cloud is sorely lacking. They all file out but he is made to stay behind. Cloud couldn't even meet Andrea's disappointed stare.

"I expected more from you, Nine." Nine...not even his real name. Andrea must be livid. "I pulled you off the street, gave you a chance because I saw something...great in you." A pause. Clouds chin was lifted and he was made to look Andrea in the eyes. He wasn't disappointed, he was sad and that made things a hundred times worse.

"It's still there, I know it is. Prove me right." Cloud was handed a sheet of paper. It was next week's schedule. He was on the day shift effective immediately.

"....fuck."

"Indeed. " Andre quipped before leaving him a line with another failure.

***

Cloud had two free days to burn. He spent all of Monday and the better half of Tuesday wallowing in self pity in his shitty wall market apartment drinking cheap liquor and eating cold takeout straight from the cartons. Might as well add being a fatass to his list of faults too.

When the four walls of his room got to be too much he peeled his pathetic form off the couch and into the shower. Life was tough right now, his budding career had wilted some, but he'd get through it. He would survive and he'd thrive. This could also be the alcohol talking.

Slightly nauseous from greasy food and drinks, he redressed in a dark blue tee and black jeans. He stepped into comfortable tennis shoes and headed out into the dusk of Sector Five. Still too much of a night owl to start wandering at a decent hour. Cloud was angry and drunk. His feelings were hurt and in turn he wanted to hurt himself more. Cloud took to the streets of Sector Five well away from the Honey Bee Inn’s hunting grounds. He was the john this time, maybe he could even learn a few things from the drugged up slum whores haunting the corners in these parts. Maybe he wouldn’t even remember this part. When Cloud spiraled he went out of control until he crashed back to reality. This shouldn’t have even been big enough to trigger this, but it did. Too many disappointments, too low self worth. It hurt every single time. How did you even suck at being a whore? All you had to do was lay down and take it and he couldn’t even do that without a fucking attitude. He stopped in front of a karaoke bar of all places. The interior was the usual lantern light fixtures and party goers belting out nonsensical song lyrics. Cloud wasn’t that far gone yet but he could appreciate the fully stocked bar in the front. He picked the stool directly in the line of sight of the bar keep and raised a hand.

“Midori sour.” While waiting for his cocktail his eyes met another. Cloud looked away, picking at his nails. It hadn't occurred to him to pick up a one stand.  
  
"Here." The bartender set down his cocktail on a napkin in front of him. Cloud paid and knocked back the vibrant green mixture. His mind swam, muting everything and making his body warm.

He was still being watched and this time he did not break away. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was all the invitation the other man needed to get up and sit next to him.

His name was Rude.  
  
Cloud brought this stranger home and fucked him; half naked on the couch still littered with take out boxes. Cloud on top, straddle him taking only enough time to open his pants and free his erection through his boxers.  
  
He rode hard setting a brutal place as soon as he was impaled. He pulled on the slim black tie until the other man choked and grabbed his hips hard enough to bruise. He didn’t push Cloud off, He pushed back up against him, matching his pace; rushing toward the big finish. This was the kind of therapy Cloud was used to, he needed it—anything to feel normal, to feel sexy, to feel in control and powerful. He climaxed, yanking on the tie so hard he pulled the Turk off the cushions and kissed him while drenching those expensive black trousers.

Much later, the sun found Cloud face down in the living room drooling on the pillows. His guest was long gone. His head ached; his mouth was dry and felt like it was full of cotton. The aftermath was always difficult. He shed the rest of his clothes on the way to the shower. He indulged in the hot water until it went cold dried off. He wiped the condensation from the bathroom mirror and stared at his reflection. What a sight, baggy eyes pink from lack of sleep, more hickeys littering his chest and a birds nest for hair. Great, let’s just sabotage everything before he started.

…did it even matter?

He washed his face and styled his hair as best as he could pulled on grey sweats with a hoodie. It was go time. First time on day shift.

***  
  
On his first morning, he showed up in the Lounge at ten in the morning, dressed in street clothes and carrying his sports bag, as instructed. It was kind of Andrea to give him two days off to adjust to his schedule.

He certainly wouldn’t have, if he were his own boss. Ten in the morning was the sex worker’s equivalent of the ass crack of dawn, and the only working boys and girls who were up this early and clocked in were on their way out of a job.  
  
He took a glance around the Lounge, empty, with a Honeyboy he hardly recognized sweeping the floors. All of the lights were on, and the place looked wholly unlike it did at night.  
  
It was depressing. Cloud had to imagine that there wouldn’t be much change in occupancy, even when the workers took their lunch breaks and came to gawk at them for a reduced price.  
  
His bag slumped off his shoulder, following the cue of the drop in his mood.  
  
“Cloud? Cloud Nine?”  
  
Cloud grimaced at hearing his full stage name. After his conversation with Reno, he’d spent nearly every second of his daydreaming time attempting to come up with a replacement.  
  
He turned in the direction of the voice, and a fully-dressed Honeygirl approached, offering a kind smile.  
  
“I’m Folia!”

He’d seen Folia around, mostly on the stage at night, but she was one who sometimes drifted between shifts, particularly on the weekend. She was lovely and had a chipper demeanor that seemed strangely out of place at a house of ill repute. Being one of the few people of color that worked at the Inn, Cloud had always imagined that she would be one of the most popular girls, but not once had he actually observed her leave the floor with a customer.  
  
She held out her hand. Against his better judgment, he folded his arms and went on glaring at her. Reno and the customers complained about his attitude with _them._ Didn’t mean he needed to make friends with his competition.  
  
“Oh! Okay, then.” Folia snapped her hand back, but didn’t seem otherwise disturbed. She went on smiling. “Andrea told me to expect you.”  
  
Cloud yawned and gave her a slow, unimpressed blink. “What, are there shift leaders on days or something?”  
  
Folia seemed taken aback by the comment. “Huh? No, honey.” She took him by the shoulder and ushered him around the stage to the back, an area he had never been.  
  
There was another dressing room there, although smaller, and much more cramped in space. In two corners stood racks of clothes with a variety of sparkling garments hanging from them. Why, he didn’t know; he only ever saw the girls dance in their standard Honeybee uniform. Two more girls sat at their vanities, oscillating between checking their phones, and lazily applying makeup that would slide off their faces anyway due to the sweat.  
  
Mukki was in there, dressed in a tacky island-timesharer’s shirt and gold chains, checking each of the lockers for belongings left behind. _So, that’s where he is in the mornings,_ Cloud thought.  
  
“My god, bubby,” he said to no one in particular as he pulled a stray pair of lace panties out from one locker. He dangled them in front of him with his index finger, and sneered in disgust. “How long do you think these have been in here, Folia?” It was as if he didn’t even notice Cloud.  
  
Folia chuckled and adjusted her glasses. “Who knows? Just toss ‘em. Anyway,” she placed a hand on Cloud’s shoulder and ushered him in. “Mukki, Cloud’s on dayshift now! You know Cloud, right?”  
  
Mukki tossed the underwear in the garbage and went onto the next locker, opening it, shrieking, and slamming it. Cloud’s aggravation meter immediately peaked.  
  
“What?” Folia squeaked.  
  
“There’s… a sandwich in there.”  
  
Cloud groaned, dropped his bag and moved to the locker. He gave nobody the hierarchical respect that working in a red-light district afforded them, but he _did not_ like Mukki, and it was apparent that Mukki didn’t think much of him either. Most of the girls went out of their way to kiss his ass, calling him “mom,” bringing him food bought with their hard-earned money. He repaid them with pet names and showered them with flattery, but the truth was that Mukki was a gossiping snitch, and he made sure Andrea heard about every minor foul that occurred before the Bees had a chance to approach him themselves. Every “sweetie” and “honey” he squeezed out in Cloud’s direction was usually followed by a muttered “bitch” or “cunt.”  
  
He pushed past Mukki, opened the locker, took out the moldy sandwich, and tossed it.  
  
“There,” he said to Mukki, dusting his hands, and giving him a dead-eyed stare. “Now you can go back to pretending to work.”  
  
Mukki curled his lip at Cloud, threw his hands up dramatically and walked toward the door.  
  
“I just… _can’t_ with her,” he said on his way out.  
  
The other Honeybees glanced up at Cloud momentarily. Cloud didn’t know either of them. He glared back, and they went on about their business.  
  
From her place at the door, Folia looked horrified.  
  
“Okay, then!” She laughed, nervously, clasped her hands together, and moved over to a vanity that had words scrawled on the mirror in cursive lipstick, with a few stray cups full of makeup brushes. Some highlighter and finishing powder sat neatly in the corner.  
  
The equipment in this dressing room was more run-down than the main one on the Floor. Cloud felt gross just being in there; it smelled like sweat and expired makeup.  
  
Disgusted, he went over to where Folia was standing.  
  
“So, this used to be Belle’s desk. Sadly, she isn’t here anymo--”  
  
Cloud dropped his bag onto the vanity, grabbed the makeup, twisted in his chair and tossed it into the trash.  
  
“...anymore, but this is yours now!”  
  
“Fine,” Cloud said, as he picked up the brushes in the cup Belle left behind, sniffed them, and also tossed them. “I don’t plan on staying on days long, anyway.”  
  
Folia hummed, sighed, and sat in the vanity next to him.  
  
“So, what brought you to days anyway?”  
  
Cloud crinkled his nose, and went about unzipping his bag. “I need to tell you all that?”  
  
“No! I’m sorry.”  
  
“I mean, isn’t it obvious?” Cloud went on. He reached into his bag and pulled out the only pair of shoes he could find that were mildly appropriate: just vinyl, black stiletto pumps not different from the ones he wore with his uniform, but with an inch more height. They still could have been a Shinra admin assistants' work pumps.  
  
“Pollen Points, then?” Folia shook her head sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Cloud.”  
  
Cloud flinched inwardly at the random kindness. Nobody was nice without a reason, moreso in this industry, he figured.  
  
He changed the subject.  
  
“What do we do here, anyway?”  
  
Folia’s eyes brightened back up. “Oh! Right, I’m supposed to teach you some spins!”  
  
Spins. Cloud closed his eyes and shook his head. Great. He was going to embarrass himself _and_ puke everywhere.  
  
Folia didn’t notice his distress. “Get dolled up, and meet me on the stage. No stinger and no wings. Hurry, because we open in forty-five!”  
  
\--  
  
“Do you know how to dance?”  
  
Cloud thought about how to answer that. “No” would be misleading, and “Yes” would be an admission to something that he had always imagined keeping secret.  
  
He settled on “some,” and allowed Folia, in the little time they had, to teach him some basic spins on the static pole before the customers came. Dip spin. Chair spin. Attitude spin. Back leg hook spin. Front leg hook spin. He executed them all decently, but found that he slid awkwardly because of the nylons of their uniform.  
  
“So,” he said, scratching his head. His lashes had only been on for about twenty minutes, and he already felt them weighing him down. “You’re just supposed to spin all over the place for three to five minutes?”  
  
Folia adjusted her glasses again. “Well, no... “ She took a hold of the pole and moved her hips side to side, throwing her head back. Cloud had seen that move a thousand times.  
  
“Do… you know, other things in between?”  
  
“Like what?” He folded his arms, and glanced down at them. He never liked how his toned muscle gave him away in this outfit. The stupid fur bangles made him itch as well.  
  
“Like… I dunno, you ever dance in the mirror by yourself? Alone? At home?”  
  
Cloud refused to answer that. Instead, he crossed the five foot difference between the static and spin pole and placed a hand against it. “What about this?” When he turned back to Folia to look at her, he lost his balance as the pole rolled.  
  
“Oh, maybe don’t mess with that right now.”  
  
He righted himself, and watched it spin. “How do you climb it?”  
  
At that moment, Mukki walked across the floor in front of the stage, tapped his wrist, and kept moving. They were about to open. The other girls were already stationed at different points of the bar, phones on them, waiting to greet whatever customer sat by them. There were five opening, including Cloud.  
  
He tried not to let the anxiety get to him.  
  
Folia gave him an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, Cloud.” She turned to leave the stage. “Come early every morning and practice, maybe.”  
  
Cloud, still standing there in his heels, frowned at her. “How? I don’t know what I’m--”  
  
“You’ll learn!” She left the stage, and one of the girls waiting in the wings behind him made a _pssing_ sound at him. He turned around to see a brunette in costume, peeking her head through the curtain.  
  
“Get off,” she said.  
  
Rather than use the stairs, Cloud squatted, swung his legs over the edge of the stage, and jumped off.  
  
\--  
  
The afternoon was even slower than he’d expected. It was raining out, and hardly any customers came.  
  
They were told to dance, even if there wasn’t a single person in the seats. It was good practice, Folia said. Cloud did so with no conviction whatsoever. He felt stupid, and thought nothing of whatever it was he did on stage. The girls paid him no mind either.  
  
The rest of the time, he spent studying the girls. As they had all chosen to wear their uniforms, which included nylon, they stayed with what Folia had told him was “basework:” grounded movements on the pole, the same basic spins he’d been taught to a strange variety of music that he would have called “rock classics,” drowned out by the over-processed bass, controlled by their DJ, Milo.  
  
A couple more girls joined the shift as the minutes ticked by, and they had the brilliant notion to wear stockings with garters, which left their thighs exposed and able to stick to the pole. Nothing they did was fantastic though: they spun in the air like ballerinas, again making the same pretty shapes over and over again. Gracefully though, and with smooth transitions, they let their feet touch the stage and then bowed, as if they were part of Andrea’s shows already. A few men came up to give them gil, and then sat back down. The girls took the cash gracefully, bowing as if they were bestowed some great honor.  
  
Cloud was dumbfounded. He’d never been to a strip club before, but he was almost certain that it wasn’t like this. When Andrea showed up about thirty minutes after opening and walked right past the lounge, he wondered if he had ever visited one himself. He took no interest in the going-ons there, even on night shift.  
  
Finally, at around one-thirty, a small trickle of customers came. Cloud’s annoyance at the lack of observers to his rudimentary training turned into nausea. Now there would be people there to document how badly he sucked at this.  
  
The song Milo picked for him as he announced him onto the stage, _our very own Nine_ , was not one he recognized, and it didn’t promise to be inspiring. He pushed past the curtains and placed his hands on the pole.  
  
For the next four minutes, he did… whatever.  
_  
Whatever._ It was like a resounding bell in his head. He projected the word and wore it like a second skin. He had no idea what he was doing.  
_  
Ever dance alone at home in the mirror?_  
_  
Yeah,_ Cloud thought angrily as he placed his back against the pole and slid down, _and I have way more fun than this._  
  
He chanced a glance at his audience on the way up from a dip spin. Arms folded, texting, drinking. Not that much of a different reaction from the other girls, but at least _they_ feigned some kind of excitement or interest in what they were doing, even if no one paid them any mind.  
  
Cloud hadn’t reached that level of competence yet.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of red. It stole his attention away, and he nearly lost his balance following the swishing ponytail out to the smoking deck, past the Sugar Sap lounges.  
  
As the song finished, a single man came over to wave him a few gil. Whether it was because he genuinely liked what he saw or felt sorry for him had no effect on Cloud; it was almost worse than no one coming to him.  
  
He eschewed the humble thank yous, took the cash, and left the stage to follow Reno out to the patio.  
  
\--  
  
He found him outside, leaning up against the building under the awning to avoid the rain, smoking a cigarette with his head down. Cloud walked outside, observed the tattoos and the stray locks of red hair bisecting them, and saw that it was who he thought it to be. He shivered momentarily from the cool air, and then took up the space on the other side of the door from him.  
  
It did occur to Cloud to ask how Reno knew he was no longer on nights, but asking would have required that conversation about _why he cared_ that he wasn’t ready to engage in.  
  
Instead, he asked: “Can I have one?”  
  
Wordlessly, Reno turned, reached across the door frame to hand him a cigarette, and lit it for him.  
  
In all the times he’d been exposed to him, he’d never observed Reno in civilian clothes. He was smart enough to wear black sports trainers and a matching training suit for the rain, and it surprised Cloud how such casual dress on Reno bore such a strong resemblance to his uniform.  
  
“So you’re on days now,” Reno said pensively, looking in the opposite direction.  
  
Cloud coughed and folded his arms, tucking his chin under. His makeup felt moist and thick on his face, which reminded him that it was there at all. He was sure he looked ridiculous, standing half-naked out in the open, dressed like a feminine whore in such a masculine posture.  
  
“Yeah,” he admitted, pulling awkwardly at his cigarette. “That was my first dance.”  
  
There was a long, uncomfortable pause as Reno drew from his cigarette, and then exhaled the smoke.  
  
“I saw,” was all he said, at last.  
  
Cloud groaned and leaned his head back against the brick. “Was it _that_ bad?”  
  
Reno lifted his foot to turn the butt of his cigarette into the sole of his shoe. It was the first full look Cloud ever had of him in the light. Nothing was different; he was still just as handsome as he was in the forgiving dark-lit atmosphere of the Inn at night.  
  
“Wasn’t that good,” he said with a shake of his head. “Damn sure ain’t good enough for _you._ Or to get you back onto nights.”  
  
He seemed almost sorry as he said that last bit. Cloud blew a harsh puff of air out of his mouth.  
  
“Fuck!”  
  
He pounded a fist against the brick. In the presence of Reno, and in full acknowledgement of his anger, Cloud realized for the first time that he did not want to be bad at yet another job, not after failing with Shinra. It was infuriating to him, making him more sick with himself every passing second that placed him in an area beyond redemption.  
  
Soon, he’d be like one of the cloaked beggars on the streets.  
  
Reno lit another cigarette and smoked it, wordlessly.  
  
A few more seconds of silence passed. Cloud seethed quietly, his head turned away from Reno in anger. The odd sense of deja vu overtook him before Reno got his attention.  
  
“‘Ay.”  
  
Cloud turned to him. Reno’s eyes looked so much bluer in the daylight, clashing with the vibrant, fake red of his hair. The hint of mako-green around his pupils was certainly not a fever dream.  
  
“When’s your shift up?”  
  
“Four.” That was less than two hours from then. Paid personal time took precedence over time on the stage, though, and Cloud silently willed Reno to utilize the discount available only until five to take him away and prevent him from humiliating himself any further.  
  
Reno tossed the butt, leaned across the door frame and grabbed Cloud’s wrist, pulling him inside.  
  
“C’mon.”  
  
\--  
  
This time, Reno rented the Honeysuckle Suite, one of two rooms that included a pole. It was quite expensive, and discounted at a hundred gil an hour for the day shift. A steal.  
  
Rather than touch the bar, Reno immediately stripped down to his underwear--form-fitting boxer briefs that cupped his ass--and rummaged through a basket of accessories set beside it.  
  
“Where’s the fuckin’ hex key?” His hair settled against his spine as he squatted and started tossing things aside. Cloud took note, again, of the lean muscle underneath his skin that appeared as he placed stress on his thighs.  
  
Cloud closed the door behind him. “The what, now?”  
  
Reno ignored him and pulled out what he was looking for. “Got it,” he said, holding it up. “Lights, sky blue.”  
  
The enviro-controls responded in kind, and set the room to a lighting that made Cloud think of mermaids. Reno went to the pole in the center of the room, and began screwing with a notch at the base.  
  
“Take that shit off, Nine,” he said, as he used the key to change the static pole to a spinning one.  
  
Cloud immediately did as he was told, until he was in nothing but the sheer panty that Mukki required them to wear under the costumes for sanitary purposes. When he hooked two thumbs under the rim and pulled them down to expose his hips, Reno waved him off dismissively.  
  
“No, you don’t gotta get naked,” he said. He hadn’t even looked at Cloud. He was focused on prepping the pole, spreading hand-grip on his palms and smearing it along the surface.  
  
When Reno latched onto it and pulled himself to the top in two moves, Cloud approached the base and looked up in awe.  
  
“How did you do that?”  
  
“Ever climb a rope before?” Reno held the key in his mouth as he locked his knees against the metal and placed himself into a sitting position atop the pole as it spun slowly.  
  
“Of course.” He had to look away to prevent himself from getting dizzy. If sex work were as easy as half the shit he did in the military, he wouldn’t be on Fourth Tier Nights.  
  
“Same idea.”  
  
And then, as if a switch had turned on, Reno held out his arms, pointed his toes, and dropped his torso. The pole spun faster.  
  
What he had thought were ballerina moves before paled in comparison to what Reno did on the pole.  
  
He spun, his back arched and chest touching his knees, then smoothly grasped the pole again, unhooked his legs, and gracefully alternated them back and forth, as if he were treading water in the air.  
  
He looked down at Cloud every time he passed him in a rotation, smirking.  
  
“Here,” he said as he passed him once, dropping the hex key into Cloud’s hand in one turn, then swinging his inside knee over to hook onto the pole, dropping his center of gravity to go into a partial split.  
  
Cloud was speechless. As masculine as Reno was with his broad shoulders and thin hips, he curved his body like a woman, wrapped himself around the pole like a contortionist, made interesting and beautiful shapes that showed off his physique and flexibility.  
  
“How do I look,” he asked as he stuck a leg out behind himself, which slowed him down, then pulled it in quickly and brought it up above his head, hooking it over, allowing him to spin upside down with only the back of his knees as a point of contact. “Good?”  
  
Cloud nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Amazing.”  
  
“ _Really?_ ”  
  
Something about the way he said that told him that he had given the wrong answer.  
  
“So, you wanna pull me into a corner and say dirty shit to me? Get a room with me? Fuck me?”  
  
Reno pulled himself up using his abdominal muscles only, righted his legs, and stepped off the pole without losing his balance. He leaned against the pole with one hand, and awaited an answer.  
  
“Does it make you want to imagine all the nasty shit you wanna do to me if we’re alone?”  
  
Cloud blinked at him. It didn’t take much to imagine Reno naked and nasty, but that wasn’t what came to mind until Reno had placed the image into his head. It could be that he was the wrong person to ask, but the dance was just beautiful: an impressive show of acrobatics and strength.  
  
“No,” he finally responded, crossing his arms. “But still. It’s amazing--”  
  
“Who gives a shit.”  
  
Reno went to the bar, but instead of picking up the crystal bottle of liquor, he poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher. Cloud observed the sweat glistening on his back in the blue light. Pole dancing was strenuous work, apparently.  
  
“It doesn’t make money. This ain’t the circus,” Reno said, turning his back to Cloud and observing him over the rim of his glass. “It’s a whorehouse. All that stuff I just did, you can do. Easy. But people don’t wanna see that shit if they come in here, you feel me?”  
  
Cloud shook his head. “What do they wanna see?”  
  
“Pussy.” Reno said it with a slight shrug, as if it were the most obvious answer.  
  
Cloud rolled his eyes, and made a sound with his mouth. Did Reno always have to be so vulgar? He leaned against his static pole. “This isn’t that kind of place.”  
  
Reno scoffed loudly, and set his glass back onto the bar. “You misunderstanding me, Shorty. You don’t gotta _show_ pussy to sell it. You just gotta remind the customers that it’s there.”  
  
Cloud shook his head. He clearly had no idea what Reno was talking about.  
  
Reno placed his hands on his hips and sighed, but smiled at Cloud anyway. “Celesta,” he addressed the room’s virtual assistant, “Play _Order More._ ”  
  
The AI beeped in confirmation, and as the slow music began, Reno slid to the ground on his hands and knees. “I’ll show you.”  
  
And from there, Reno instructed him to leave the pole alone for a minute, and follow him onto the floor where he taught him how to spread his legs, arch his back, work the muscles in his ass just so to entice the viewer to think about what else it might do. Like swallow up their dick.  
  
It was a much more difficult adjustment to make than just learning how to wrap himself around the pole. Cloud did as he was told. The selection of music made it easier for him to imagine the moves, but he felt ridiculous doing them--not because they were ugly, but because he was _him._  
  
"I dunno," he said, stopping halfway through a backbend and flipping over onto his stomach. "None of the girls dance like this."  
  
“Dance like what?” Reno flipped over onto his stomach as well, and dragged his torso up in a way that teased the audience with the shape of his ass on the way up. He snapped his head back, his ponytail whipped around, and Cloud saw how powerful just _hair_ could possibly be; that the entire function of what Reno was teaching him was to create some kind of optical illusion that confuses the senses and transports the viewer into somewhere they wished they’d be.  
  
It was certainly effective, at least on him. Reno was hot. Watching him made him ache between his legs in brief spans, when he wasn’t trying to follow what he was doing.  
  
Cloud searched for a word. “... Nasty.”  
  
Reno snorted a laugh, and then moved so that he faced Cloud, and leaned back on his elbows, a man again. “That’s why they’re all in the lower tiers, making shit money. You’re here to _be_ nasty, Shorty. Ply your trade.”  
  
“I feel like Andrea wouldn’t agree.”  
  
“See, you got that shit fucked up.” Reno used the pole strategically to pull himself up, by kicking his legs back, pulling them in, putting him into a squatting position. Cloud admired how none of his movements went to waste. Every second with him was a learning opportunity. He copied the movement.  
  
“They all out there trying to impress Andrea so he can put them on that stage. What they _need_ to be doing is impressing them johns out there so they can make their cash. And that’s what you’re gonna do. Again.”  
  
He made Cloud run through the moves again, praising Cloud’s ability to copy, but warning him not to mirror, an old military habit. Telling him to make the movements his own.  
  
“Let’s see your splits,” Reno asked, as he lit a cigarette. Cloud easily sunk into a front split.  
  
“Damn! How ‘bout the side?”  
  
Cloud rotated his torso and turned his back leg out easily.  
  
Reno whistled. “Shinra good for something, ain’t they?”  
  
Cloud gave a shy smile. Flexibility wasn’t something he had been complimented on; just a requirement for anyone wanting to take the SOLDIER trials.  
  
“This is… kinda fun,” he admitted, bouncing his groin onto the floor.  
  
“There ya go,” Reno exclaimed. “Make sure you do that on the stage. You’re a Peach Boy, so they’ll like that shit.”  
  
Cloud froze. It wasn’t the first time he’d been called a “Peach Boy,” but the truth was that it was a derogatory term used for males with natural vaginas in the sex industry, and he’d always felt uncomfortable being referred to as such. However, with Reno, the offense dissipated as quickly as it came about, even though this man had never seen his genitals before. Reno meant nothing by it but to tell him the truth about what he had to offer his clients.  
  
“The music…” Hip-hop wasn’t something Cloud had been exposed to until he came to the Undercity, and it wasn’t something he could see himself listening to, until Reno had given him the movement context to do so with. It clicked with him every time he matched a bass fall with the snap of his hips, or a circular wind of his torso.  
  
“I get it now,” was all he could say.  
  
“Maybe dance to something you like for the first few times,” Reno advised. “You gotta pay extra for it, but it’s worth it.”  
  
The rest--the pole tricks and aerial stuff--could be learned on his own, Reno told him, as he got up to pour himself another glass of water. When he finished, Cloud did the same, and as he took a long look at Reno’s scarred, tattooed back, it occurred to him that his knowledge of sex work must not have come from simply being a patron.  
  
“So, Reno,” he said conversationally, between sips of water. “Where did you dance?”  
  
Cloud half expected Reno to give him a mocking, cryptic, smart-assed answer. Instead, Reno turned to the gold-chrome pole, and smiled at it as if he were reminiscing. He placed a hand on it and looked at where it connected to the ceiling, admiring its quality.  
  
“Nowhere as nice as here, that’s for fucking sure.”  
  
Cloud was curious, but something about the way Reno said that told him that he should leave it alone.  
  
“Thought about a new name yet?”  
  
Cloud gave a light shake of his head to snap himself back to attention. “Uh…”  
  
“You ever gonna tell me where it came from?”  
  
The word _ever_ made it feel like he and Reno had known each other for months, but it was only their second meeting. He had to keep reminding himself that.  
  
“Cloud,” he said after a pause.  
  
“What?”  
  
“My name is Cloud.”  
  
As expected, Reno began to snicker when he realized where his stage name came from, quietly wheezing under his breath as he smirked at Cloud across his glass. Cloud shrugged, and gave an embarrassed smile. He deserved that.  
  
“So like I said. Any other candidates?”  
  
“Was thinking about using my real name.”  
  
“Not a bad idea.” Reno drained the rest of the glass, and went for the whiskey. “I mean, your name is weird enough for people to think it’s a stage name, and it’s not like you have a revolving door of customers that would remember your old one…”  
  
“Fuck you.” Cloud folded his arms and gave Reno an annoyed frown.  
  
Chuckling, he flicked his eyes up at Cloud the way he’d taught him to do when he showed him how to give a decent blowjob.  
  
“We ain’t there yet, Peach.”  
  
Disarmed, Cloud dropped his arms and considered that comment for a long while as he helped Reno into his clothes.  
  
\--  
  
Reno gave him the maximum amount of Pollen Points for their training visit. The previous one, he’d given only three.  
  
Somehow, Cloud understood this better than if Reno had been speaking plainly to him.  
  
It was so boring on the floor the next day that the girls had taken to entertaining each other, putting their feet up on the tables and recording dances.  
  
The intensity of the rain told them that they could relax; the day was for nothing, there would be no cash inflow. Cloud used the time to practice aerial spins he’d learned from iTube, and spinning without getting sick.  
_  
Gotta focus on a point in the ceiling,_ Reno had said.  
  
The first time he’d dismounted from a spin, he stumbled backstage and vomited into the large garbage can that was just inside the dressing room. He didn’t give up, though.  
He dabbed his face with a towel and went back onstage before the song was over to continue practicing.  
  
He was grateful when he saw Reno, again, in civilian clothes, motion him toward the main room.  
  
They rented the same place that time. Reno wanted to teach Cloud how to twerk. When he got undressed and pulled out the black g-string he’d brought with him, Cloud began to snicker.  
  
Reno wasn’t laughing, though. “The fuck is so funny? You know this is money, right?”  
  
“Nothing, it’s just…”  
  
“Just what?”  
  
Cloud shook his head. “Can’t imagine you wearing--”  
  
Reno dropped trou in front of Cloud, and pulled the underwear over his cock, letting it go with a snap against his hip. The lines of the garment complimented the slight shape of his iliac crests--the loveliest part of the male form, in Cloud’s opinion.  
  
He couldn’t stop from giggling. Reno looked good; he couldn’t figure out what it was. Probably just nerves and arousal. Inappropriate affect, something he’d been accused of before.  
  
“Hahahaha,” Reno joined him in mock frequency, then gave the finger. “Fuck you.” He tossed him a pair that a Honeygirl had provided them with beforehand. “Suit up and get your ass on this couch.”  
  
Reno had him share space with him on the plush couch situated directly in front of a large mirror, sitting on their knees, back arched, arms over the back of the chair while he instructed him how to move the muscles of the lower back and glutes to give the desired effect.  
  
“I don’t have the ass for this,” Cloud complained, at first, when he had trouble. He craned his neck, looked in the mirror, and tensed his thigh muscles.  
  
“You don’t need ass to twerk, Shorty.” Reno had less fat on his rear than Cloud, but he had the motions down pat. “It’s all in the muscle. Celesta, play _Back Up._ ”  
  
The song helped. The clap in the beat gave Cloud the even rhythm he needed to figure out how to manipulate the muscle in his ass to move in time. He kept his head over his shoulder, watching the mirror image of he and Reno alternating cheeks.  
  
“There it is,” Reno said, once he got it.  
  
"Thought you said you don't got ass, Cloud."

"I don't."

"Fuckin' liar."

Cloud kept the rhythm. He arched his neck back only because he was feeling the music and concentrating.  
  
“Ooh,” Reno said. “You look good, Peachy.”  
  
The affirmation gave Cloud the push to work through the end of the song.  
  
“Okay.” Reno leaned back onto his haunches to rest and pulled a hand through his ponytail. Whether that was for the imagery or not, Cloud didn’t know, but it was hot. He was starting to regret cutting his hair off.  
  
“Something faster now. Celesta, play _Simon Says._ Follow the cues for the song, Cloud.”  
  
The song was fast, and came with everything Cloud needed to understand not just the lesson, but the general idea that Reno was attempting to convey to him: vulgar, frenetic, arrogant energy.  
  
Halfway through the song, Reno hissed, looking back in the mirror at Cloud’s progress. He kept going, but the way his friend's teeth clenched and his brow furrowed gave Cloud the indication that he was doing the right thing with his ass.  
  
“Goddamn,” Reno moaned. He felt that jolt in his cunt that he was becoming familiar with whenever he successfully seduced someone.  
  
The song hadn’t finished yet when Reno jumped up from his spot on the couch.  
  
“You gotta suck my dick now.”  
  
Halfway surprised but pleasantly so, Cloud turned around in enough time for Reno to slide his left hand through the front of his hairline, and put his cock in his mouth.  
  
It was the first time Cloud had sucked Reno off since they last saw each other, but not the last time he’d sucked a dick. He remembered what he was taught.  
  
“You’re getting good at this, Shorty,” Reno breathed, moving his hand to the back of Cloud’s head. Cloud stretched his neck up to get a good look at the shift in Reno’s face as he lapped at his frenulum; the way his lids fluttered shut, then opened again immediately to watch as he guided his mouth around his cock.  
  
Reno stopped just before he came. When Cloud pulled off of the tip of his cock with a confused look, Reno reminded him again, _we ain’t there yet,_ and touched the side of his face gently before taking several deep, slow breaths.  
  
Reno sat back on the couch, closed his eyes, and ventilated.  
  
“Get my jacket.”  
  
Cloud did as he was told, and brought Reno his black jacket. Reno reached into a pocket and pulled out a small bag of white powder. Cloud watched as he licked his pinky finger, poked it into the bag, and insufflated it. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before. Almost all of the successful Honeygirls and Honeyboys did it, but he’d never gotten close enough to someone with the ability to afford the expensive narcotic.  
  
Reno gave Cloud a long look, dipped his finger into the bag again, and held it out to Cloud.  
  
Cloud looked down at the powder, then at Reno. Something in his gut told him that this was a bad idea, but he chalked that up to old prejudices from the country. Sure, there were junkies strung out on this stuff everywhere. People who couldn’t live without it.  
  
Cloud was stronger than that. The second he leaned forward, Reno curled his finger up and away from Cloud.  
  
“Before you do this,” he said, his warning voice in full effect. “Two rules: Number One, two lines a shift, six hours apart. That’s all you need. You feel me?”  
  
Cloud blinked. He had no idea what would have been too much or too little. There were no narcotics where he was from, and if this was what he thought it was, SOLDIERs did it all the time. It was something the elders in his village warned him and the other exiting boys away from before his cycle had left, and its forbidden nature had always excited him.  
  
“I feel you,” he said with an obedience in his tone that he’d never heard before.  
  
“Two: This is a tool. It’s for _work._ It feels good, but the second you start doing it at home, it’s over. You’re finished. And if I find out you’re an addict, _we’re_ finished.”  
  
Reno’s mouth turned as he said that. He meant it.  
  
“Feel me?”  
  
Cloud blinked slowly, and nodded. He didn’t want Reno to be finished with him, but the anticipation was putting his stomach in knots.  
  
That time, when he leaned in, Reno didn’t move. He mimicked what he’d seen in Reno’s VIP sessions and closed one lacquered finger over a nostril and snorted the powder off his finger.  
  
He felt like someone had hit him in the nose. He coughed, let the bitter substance liquidize down the back of his throat, and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. Reno rubbed the residue onto his gums.  
  
“You good?”  
  
He was better than good. Reno tossed him the remainder of the bag, they danced for the last fifteen minutes of their session before the bell rang, and they ended as usual: last minute wisdom, a drink, a question from Cloud, a _follow me_ cue from Reno.  
  
“When you dance, don’t do anything weird with your face. You’re an ice queen, not the Faerie Queen.” Cloud flinched inwardly at the mention of the current Queen’s title. He’d never spent time in the same space as her, nor did he imagine that he’d be mentioned in the same sentence. “Don’t force it.”  
  
Cloud felt the sudden impulse to talk, and ignored the strong urge to fuck. He bit his tongue and asked the one thing that he knew truly mattered.  
  
“Why are you doing this?”  
  
“Doing what, kid?”  
  
“Helping me.”  
  
Reno shrugged and knocked back his drink.  
  
“Everyone deserves a fair shot, right?”  
  
It was a generic answer that anyone with ill intentions could have said, but something told him that Reno wasn’t lying.  
  
“Your shift is over, right?”  
  
Cloud nodded. “Forty-five minutes.”  
  
“Cool.” Reno slipped into his jacket. “Take another line in two hours and work a double.”  
  
Cloud looked at him as if he were crazy. “What?”  
  
“Trust me,” was the last thing he said, before he was gone.  
  
\--  
  
Cloud woke up the next morning after his double shift at eleven, having slept poorly for six hours, but feeling a different sort of energy.  
  
He left his quarters and walked out into the cold air, observing all of the businesses in a different light: as someone that could afford their services; someone that actually belonged in their world and had something to do with its culture.  
  
For the first time since he’d moved to Wall Market, he took his lunch at an eatery, and ordered whatever he wanted.  
  
“How was it?” Reno asked over the phone. He’d left his number on his review sheet that time--another full set of Pollen Points.  
Cloud thought about his night after Reno left.  
_  
He wore a purple one-piece that was available in the dressing room, neglected for being slightly too revealing for regulars that took the stage. Even the Bees took notice when he walked out onto the floor wearing it. When it was his turn, he did as he was instructed and paid Milo to play a song of his liking._  
  
“Not bad,” he said.  
_  
He took the stage and did as he liked, slow deliberate movements, focusing on his muscle control and moving his body in the direction he wanted it to, making sure he enjoyed everything he did._  
  
“What song did you dance to?”  
_  
A man took notice of Cloud immediately. He stood at the base of the stage and looked up at him._  
  
“ _Babe_.”  
  
“Send it to me.”  
  
“Aren’t you at work?”  
  
“Fuckin’ send it to me! I’m on a break right now.”  
  
“Okay!”  
_  
He only executed the moves he felt confident enough in, but they were ones he took his time to work out. The message conveyed itself properly._  
  
“This song is so you,” Reno said. “Congratulations. So what happened?”  
  
Cloud stuck his fork in his mouth. “I got this guy…”  
_  
The man flipped around thirty gil or so on the stage. It was more than Cloud ever had tossed at him. He left his spot on the center and performed the practice rounds he’d done with Reno into the man’s face. He felt ridiculous until he looked behind him, saw the man was sweating, biting his lip, and reaching for his wallet again._  
  
“Yeah?”  
_  
When the song ended, Cloud moved away from him on all fours and winked, without changing any other feature on his face. No smiling, like Reno said._  
  
“He took me to a room. Fucked the shit out of me,” he said, as he rummaged through his wallet, counting his keepings from the night before. “To the same song.”  
  
He could hear Reno’s smile. “And how did that feel?”  
_  
He pressed himself against the mattress and closed his eyes, spreading his legs in a full split as his customer pushed inside of him._  
  
“Pretty good, actually.” His answer surprised himself. He hadn’t expected to see immediate results from Reno’s lesson, but now that he had, there was a solid eagerness to see Reno again, absorb his wisdom, and get him to change the time table of what “there” was for them.  
  
“You see how it can be?”  
  
It was like he could see Reno in front of him, quirking the corner of his mouth upwards, the loose strands of red framing his eyes and tattoos. His cunt responded in kind.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
\--  
  
Cloud worked doubles until the end of the week. It had been a constant rotation of morning training, lines of stimulants, dancing, moving about the floor, and a few more room requests than normal. He had been too tired to watch his Pollen Points as he should have, and was nodding off when he was announced as one of the highest earners that week.  
The girls applauded in surprise as he gaped dumbly at the approaching Andrea.  
  
“Nine, darling,” he said, moving in to cup his face. “Your progress has been impressive. Are you ready for the next level?”  
  
“Next… level?” Cloud turned to the scoreboard as it tallied his numbers and moved his avatar up from Fourth Tier to Third.  
  
That had been quick.  
  
“Keep up the good work.” Andrea leaned down to give Cloud a kiss on the cheek, but made no mention of moving him back to nights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally sober enough to post responsibly. -sand
> 
> ... i miss pole :( -jae
> 
> Again: Do not do hard drugs. And for the love of mike, do not copy Reno and chase a stimulant with a depressant. You will regret it.


End file.
